


His Name

by Kaleran



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling, I said I wouldn't write another damn proposal fic but it just happened? whoops, I'm sorry but also not, Javert is very annoyed, Javert's first name is Inspector, Javert's name is a subject near and dear to my heart, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mostly Dialogue, Valjean is very persuesive, another pov style experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 16:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18196625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleran/pseuds/Kaleran
Summary: They've known each other for twenty-four years and Valjean still doesn't know Javert's first name. Whatever it is, it can't possibly be worse thanJean Valjean.





	His Name

**Author's Note:**

> I have like three 30k+ fics I should be working on during this time of writers block and yet I hammer out this thing in two hours. I definitely have my priorities straight. 
> 
> I haven't checked this for errors too good yet but I figured I should yeet it into the Void of the internet before I loose my nerve. Let me know if you see weird things that need correction!

 

“You know,” Valjean says, curled up against Javert’s warm side, fingers tangled and book in hand, “we’ve known each other for decades now.”

“Mmm,” Javert hums, not looking away from the papers on his lap. Work, of course. There is always work. “Twenty-four years.

“You count those five years as my guard?”

Javert’s eyes flick to his for a brief moment, as if his eyes alone could insult him for his stupidity. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Valjean looks down, shame coloring his cheeks. He lifts his broad shoulders weakly.

Javert squeezes his hand, quick and brief.

“I watched you,” Javert says. “I knew you.”

Valjean’s expression flickers, shifting into neutrality quickly.

Javert squeezes his hand again.

“Eight years until I recognized you again in Montreuil-sur-Mer,” Javert says.

“Eight years until you arrested me,” Valjean corrects. “You recognized me far before then.”

Javert tilts his head in acknowledgment, eyes glancing up once more. A playful smile threatens his lips. “How could I not?”

“Nine years after that, we met at the barricades,” Valjean says.

Javert’s expression shutters, mouth tense once more. “Jean—“

“And now,” Valjean continues anyway, voice soft as always, “two years later...”

“Twenty-four years.”

“Yes.”

A moment of silence between them, the sound of traffic from the street distant through the open window. Valjean absently brushes a lock of hair out of Javert’s eyes, tucking it delicately behind his ear. Javert flips to the next page of his report with one hand in a practiced motion.

“What are you getting at with this?” Javert asks eventually.

“We’re old.”

A snort. “Absolutely decrepit.”

“Don’t say that,” Valjean scolds, a smile in his voice. “I was just thinking—“

“May God help us.”

“Oh, shut up. I was—“

“Make me.”

“Later.”

Javert hums.

“Later!” Valjean laughs quietly. “You are so impatient.”

The side of Javert’s mouth quirks up, even as his eyes remain on the report in his lap.

“I was thinking that I still don’t know your name.”

Javert glances at him, a single eyebrow raised. “Really?”

“You never told me.”

Javert scoffs, his terrible half-smile showing his teeth in a ferocious expression. It melts Valjean’s heart regardless of how ugly it is. “I absolutely have told you my name.”

“I think I would remember that, Javert.”

Another scoff. “Javert is more than fine.”

“Remind me of your first name?” Valjean asks.

“No.”

Valjean’s other hand lands on Javert’s knee. “Please?”

A huff of silent laughter. “No.”

Valjean slumps against him. “Why not?”

Javert turns back to his report with a roll of his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“My name is literally Jean Valjean.”

“Your name is fine.”

“ _Jean Valjean!_ ”

Another eye roll. “I’m still not telling you.”

Valjean pouts.

“That look is unbecoming on a man your age.”

“You aren’t even watching me!”

“Haven’t you learned anything from the last twenty-four years, Valjean? I’m always watching you.”

Now it’s Valjean who rolls his eyes. “Please?”

“No.”

A kiss to Javert’s cheek. “Please?”

Javert doesn’t react in the slightest. “No.”

A kiss to his jaw. “Please?”

“No.”

A kiss to his earlobe. “Please?”

Javert’s report trembles. “Valjean, I’m trying to work.”

A kiss to his neck. “Please, Javert?”

Javert growls, unlacing their fingers to take a handful of Valjean’s hair to kiss him on the mouth, fast, filthy, and forceful. Valjean makes a quiet, embarrassing sound of enjoyment.

“Is that what you wanted, Jean?”

Valjean is smiling, color high on his cheeks from Javert’s kiss. “I want to know your name.”

Javert huffs and settles himself against the couch again.

“Just once,” Valjean says. “I won’t use it.”

Javert mutters something unintelligible.

“Please?”

“...Inspector.”

Valjean’s expression crumples. “What?”

“I said, my first name is Inspector.”

Valjean blinks several times. A warm breeze blows in through the window, bringing with it the scent of stale cigarettes, petrol, and the sound of Paris.

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

Javert turns away, scowling, and crosses his legs to block himself off from Valjean further. “I told you it was embarrassing.”

“Your legal name is actually Inspector Javert.”

Javert contorts his face into a sneer, his answer like a hiss, “ _Yes_.”

“Oh.”

Javert’s eyes are glued to his report, but they don’t move along with the text even as the silence drags on.

“Why?” Valjean asks at last, his hand dropping to Javert’s knee.

Javert makes a wordless growl of irritation. “I was seven.”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Valjean, for fuck’s sake—!“

Valjean falls quiet obediently.

Javert’s snarl fades somewhat and he tears his eyes away from Valjean. “I did not legally exist until my mother was arrested when I was seven years old. I was with her when the cops came to cuff her. Obviously, I was taken in for questioning when it became apparent I had no paperwork whatsoever. They asked what my name was. I told them I was Inspector Javert.”

Valjean fails to hide his burst of laughter with a sudden coughing fit.

“So you, ah,” Valjean says, struggling to restrain his smile in the face of Javert’s piercing glare. “I take it you already knew you wanted to go into law enforcement then?”

“Obviously.”

“Did your mother correct you?”

“No. That was the last time I saw her.”

Valjean’s humor fades. “I’m sorry.”

Javert sneers again, this one half-hearted. “She went to prison, I went to foster care. It was better than being homeless.”

Valjean takes Javert’s hand again.

“You could have changed your name when you came of age.”

“No.” Javert scowls. “Do you know how much paperwork that is?” He lets Valjean weave their fingers together again, bare wrists touching.

“You could be whatever you wanted.”

“I am just Javert. I need nothing else.”

Valjean turns back to his book.

“You’re thinking again,” Javert accuses.

“Thinking is not a crime, Inspector.”

“Don’t you dare start—“

“I’m using your title.” Valjean smiles, small and secret. “Your name is ridiculous, even by my standards.”

Javert huffs his silent laugh, a flash of teeth indicating his odd smile. “Good to know you agree with me.”

Valjean leans forward to kiss him, capturing his lips with the ease of familiarity and keeping it chaste despite Javert’s attempts to deepen it. He smiles at Javert’s tries regardless.

“You damned tease,” Javert mutters, no malice in his tone. “Let me catch you already.”

“You should know how to chase me better with twenty-four years of practice, Javert.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.”

They distract themselves with kissing for several minutes as if the two of them where schoolboys instead of the old men they are. Eventually, Javert’s report and Valjean’s book fall to the floor, Javert pinning Valjean to the couch with his long, greying hair falling like a curtain around their faces. Valjean does not put up much of a fight, his smile infectious.

“Have I caught you yet, Jean?” Javert asks him, lips grazing Valjean’s and voice dark.

“Maybe,” Valjean answers with a smile. He finds one hand to reach up to Javert’s face, brushing back that long hair with soft affection. “Depends on your answer to my question.”

“What’s the question, then?”

Valjean smiles, his eyes sparkling in joy. “If I helped you change your name, would you?”

Javert blinks. “What?”

“If I helped you change it,” Valjean repeats. “Paperwork and everything.”

“Why? What would you change it to?”

“Javert Valjean, if you would allow me.”

Javert’s expression goes blank with surprise. He draws back. “You— After all I’ve done to you?”

Valjean follows him, sitting up once more. “It’s been twenty-four years, Javert. How many times must I say I forgive you before you believe me?”

Javert doesn’t answer right away, instead staring at him with confused wonder.

“Javert.” Valjean both of his hands in his own. “I love you. I forgive you. I never want to run from you again.”

“You’re proposing to me.” 

“I am.”

Javert’s hands tighten in Valjean’s. “We’re too old to get married.”

Valjean smiles at him affectionately. “No one is too old to get married. Something small and quiet, so Cosette can be there. That’s all I would want.”

“I hated you for twenty-two years.“

“I forgive you.”

“Jean—“

“I forgive you.”

“I—“

“I forgive—“

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Javert interrupts, scowling at him. “You’re such an idiot, Jean.” The words are gentle even if his look is hard.

“Ah,” Valjean says with his own brilliant smile. “Yes, Inspector?”

Javert sends him another irritated glare before his eyes soften. “I’ve chased you for twenty-two years. Of corse I want to catch you for good.”

“I might drive you insane in captivity.”

“You drive me insane anyway.”

Valjean kisses him, hands on either side of Javert’s face. His thumbs smooth over Javert’s thick sideburns. Their lips slide together and Javert’s teeth and tongue ask permission even as Valjean refuses to let the kiss turn deeper.

“Is that a yes?”

“What do you think?”

Valjean smiles against Javert’s lips and hums contentedly, arms falling over Javert’s shoulders to hold him close. “I think that you should use your words, just this once.”

Javert sighs with just the expected amount of dramatics. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you stupid, ridiculous man.”

“Good.” Valjean leans forward to kiss him.

Javert avoids it, a look of put-upon annoyance on his face. “Where’s my ring, Valjean?”

“What?”

“My ring. You did get us rings, right?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

“I don’t have rings.”

Javert scowls. He runs a hand through his bangs and looks up at the ceiling. “Damn it, Valjean.”

Valjean smiles at him, wide and helpless. “You want rings?”

“Of course I want rings, you idiot. You’re mine. I want to see proof of it.”

“I’ve been yours for a very long time, Javert.”

Javert hums, unsatisfied.

Valjean kisses the corner of his mouth. “We can get rings tomorrow.”

“You didn’t think this through at all, did you?”

“I didn’t plan on asking you to marry me tonight, no.”

Javert huffs. “You’re an idiot, Valjean.”

Valjean smiles and takes Javert’s hand in his own, warm and familiar. “I love you too, Javert.”

Javert hums. “Maybe I’ll say it in another twenty-four years.”

“I don’t mind.” Valjean’s eyes are sparkling in joy. “It will be worth the wait.”


End file.
